


Back Alleys

by KeriArentikai



Series: Oh, The Places We'll Go [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Grad School AU, M/M, No Werewolves, Professor/Student (not creepy), Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/pseuds/KeriArentikai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a good thing Lydia and Allison are already asleep when Stiles gets home, he thinks, because there's no way they'd miss the look on his face.  And he's not quite ready for that conversation.</p><p>As he takes off his clothes and gets into the shower, still smelling of coffee and sex, he thinks of nothing but Derek.  His mouth, his hands, his voice.  He falls asleep remembering Derek's smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Alleys

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, what the hell happened? Seriously. I wrote 'Hallways' this morning, planning for it to be a one-shot, and then this happened in the last three hours. And it wasn't even exactly hard. This is more fanfic than I've written in the last, oh, say, fifteen years. 
> 
> I really, really appreciated the comments, kudos and bookmarks on 'Hallways'. Thank you. I'm feeling torn as to whether to make this a multi-chapter fic or a series, but since I should be spending my time on far more pressing matters than making sure Stiles and Derek have sexy times, I have no idea if I'll write any more.
> 
> And of course, I didn't have this beta read and I barely proofread it, so if you find mistakes, please let me know.

It's a good thing Lydia and Allison are already asleep when Stiles gets home, he thinks, because there's no way they'd miss the look on his face. And he's not quite ready for that conversation.

As he takes off his clothes and gets into the shower, still smelling of coffee and sex, he thinks of nothing but Derek. His mouth, his hands, his voice. He falls asleep remembering Derek's smile.

But when he wakes up and looks at his phone, in which he saved Derek's number (after the awkward we-just-had-sex-can-I-have-your-number conversation), he wonders. What now?

***

Sitting in his office, Stiles tells himself firmly that there's nothing wrong about him getting involved with Derek. Sure, there's a bit of an age difference and power imbalance, but that can be hot just as much as troublesome. No, there's nothing about Stiles and Derek that's a problem. The problem is everyone else. 

He recognizes that not everyone is as open as he is, but Stiles is the kind of guy who thinks secrets are best shared with friends. This is probably the first time since they started grad school that Stiles hadn't told Lydia and Allison about a hook-up as soon as humanly possible after it happened. But how could he talk to Allison about the beauty of Derek's cock when she was going to be sitting across the table from Professor Hale for three hours tonight? 

He can imagine sleeping with Derek. He can and he has, in every possible permutation and combination of roles and positions. He can even (and this is newer) imagine having a quiet night at home with him, curled up on a couch and making fun of whatever movie they're watching. But he can't imagine walking down the street holding hands. He can't imagine going out to dinner. He can't imagine leaving Derek in his bed while he has breakfast with Allison and Lydia in the morning, to have him come out in sweatpants, with messy hair, and join them. He wants to, he discovers. A lot. 

He thinks about texting Derek something cute, something to remind him that Stiles exists and that Derek likes him. But then he thinks of Professor Hale receiving that message in his office one floor up, and doesn't send anything.

***

"We on for tonight?" Erica asks. 

It's Wednesday, and almost all of them have a seminar ending at nine tonight and no class the next morning. They usually go out for a drink or two - Stiles can never get any work done after a six-to-nine seminar, anyway, so he figures he might as well fit in some socializing when he can. When Stiles, Scott and Erica get out of their Greek history class, they meet up with Allison and Lydia who are in a modern Latin America class (Hale's class), and Erica's boyfriend Boyd from the Physics department usually joins them. Isaac doesn't have class but he comes anyway, and usually Matt (who no one likes) joins them, and sometimes Danny and a few other folks from the department show up, too. Stiles usually looks forward to Wednesday nights from the time he wakes up Monday morning. This afternoon, he thinks about the girls leaving Hale's class to come meet them, and where Derek goes afterward.

"Of course we're on," Lydia replies. 

***

They're crowded into a booth at one of the local dive bars that grad students go to. The Greek history seminar got out a bit early - everyone was presenting the work they'd done so far on their research papers and no one was as far along as they wanted to be - so Stiles is already at the bar by nine. When Erica goes to the bathroom, Scott looks over at him.

"Dude, what is up with you today?" he asks.

"Nothing. It is so much the case that nothing is up that things, in fact, are down. Okay, I didn't mean that either. I'm fine!"

Scott looks at him strangely. 

"You know you're going to tell me eventually." Stiles nods. It's true. Before Scott can say anything else, Lydia and Allison come in, and Stiles wants to ask if Derek was acting differently, if they noticed anything, but of course he doesn't.

He wants to be cool and not seem like a pathetic kid, but after an hour and a couple of drinks, he goes to stand outside for a few minutes and he pulls out his phone. Still no messages. Well, he thinks, it's more childish to play stupid games than to just be honest about what he wants. 

_Working late tonight?_ he texts Derek. He leans against the wall and wishes he hadn't quit smoking. He wants to hear his message notification noise so badly that, when he hears it, he thinks for a moment that he had an auditory hallucination. But no, Derek actually replied.

 _Just leaving the office now to go home. Taking the rest of the night off_ , the message says. It's times like these that Stiles curses the workings of his brain. Does that mean that he doesn't want a repeat of their office tryst? That he wants Stiles in a bed instead? That he wants a night off from Stiles? He's overwhelmed by the possibilities. He remembers feeling like this before, when he spent ages analyzing every email from Isabelle, his girlfriend in freshman year of college. He remembers that is his least favourite part. 

Before he can get himself too wound up, his phone makes the sound of a lightsaber being turned on (yes, that's his message notification noise - Star Wars is awesome). 

Derek says: _Want to come over?_

 _Yes_ , he types. Then, before pressing send, he thinks and figures he's allowed to flirt a little at this point. _I'm very biddable - just tell me where and when._

He waits.

The swooshing sound is like music to his ears, and he reads: _Give me 45 minutes. 320 Meadows. And we'll see about that._

Stiles goes back into the bar and closes his tab before going back to the booth to join his friends. It's only a ten minute walk from here, and Stiles doesn't care if Scott is looking at him like he's trying to solve a mystery.

***

He's still too happy to remember how awkward he is as a person until he's stumbling up Derek's front walk. By the time he gets to the door, he wants to take a minute and think of a game plan, but he can hear the dog barking and he knows that waiting would be even weirder than saying something stupid when Derek opens the door. So he knocks.

Derek opens the door quickly and Stiles is almost bowled over by the dog. Good, he thinks, dogs are excellent small talk. 

"What's his - her? - name?" Stiles asks.

"Her name's Camaro. Cam, for short. Don't ask," he replies, the fondness evident in his voice, as he commands her to sit. And she does, for a short while, but her tail is wagging and Derek rolls his eyes and she jumps up on Stiles again. Stiles laughs and pets her some more, but then he starts to notice the silence.

"Did you, uh, did you tell Lydia and Allison that..." Derek trails off, looking as awkward as Stiles feels. Stiles stands up.

"No." He pauses. The uncertainty on Derek's face is enough to inspire him to be honest, so he blurts out: "This is weird."

"But you came," Derek's voice is defensive.

"I didn't say weird was bad. It's just... I don't know. This is different." As he says it, he wonders if he wandered into the territory of too much honesty.

"Yeah. So, um, do you want a glass of wine or something?"

Stiles notices a half-empty glass of wine on the kitchen counter, next to a bottle and a second, empty glass. He feels a little warm inside as Derek pours him some wine and they sit down on adjacent couches in an open kitchen/living room area. Stiles is taking his first sip as Derek stops, looks a little panicked and says:

"You are old enough to drink, right?"

Stiles chokes on his sip and has to cough for a bit before he can look up at Derek with incredulous eyes.

"Just making sure!" Derek raises his hand in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm twenty-three," Stiles states. For some reason, Derek doesn't look comforted. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty-four."

"Huh."

"You thought I was older?" Derek looks a bit horrified, Stiles thinks, but he's not sure if it's because he's afraid of seeming old, or because Stiles was willing to sleep with someone even more than eleven years older than him.

"Well, I did hear that you got tenure this year. Who gets tenure at 34? That's nuts."

Derek blushes a little. It's so cute.

"You're doing Greek history, right?"

"Yeah, focusing on Herodotus and ancient sexuality."

"Wow, that's interesting." And Derek does look genuinely interested, but Stiles feels weird talking about school all of a sudden. He feels uncomfortable thinking about his not-yet-written MA thesis when he's trying to not feel like a kid in front of a professor with a published book.

He's not sure what else they have to talk about, yet.

But he's not good with silence, so he tries.

"I like your house. I actually live not too far from here."

"I know," Derek says, and then it looks like he wants to slap his hand over his mouth. "I mean, I, uh... I've seen you around the neighborhood. When I was walking Cam."

"Creeper," Stiles laughs. Derek hesitates, but then he laughs, too. 

Oh, Derek laughing. Even better than Derek smiling. Stiles can't resist - he puts down his wine glass, moves over to the other couch and pulls Derek into a kiss. Derek doesn't resist. He seems as relieved as Stiles is to have something familiar to do, something they know they can handle.

Stiles is thinking about getting on to Derek's lap like he did the night before, but instead Derek gently pushes him down onto the couch lengthwise and covers him with his body. Stiles likes this - it's less frantic, it's not just their hips pushed together but their entire bodies. Derek's got one hand supporting most of his weight and one hand on the back of Stiles' head, carding through his hair and stroking his neck, while Stiles is making use of the freedom of both his hands. He wants to stay like this with Derek for hours and hours. After. But now, he's got some more pressing needs. 

"Bedroom?" he asks.

Derek kisses him one more time, slow, as if to prove that he wants this part, too, not just what comes next. Then he lifts himself up, takes Stiles' hand and walks down the hallway with him. Stiles takes a moment to appreciate that Cam seems uninterested in joining them; she hasn't raised her head from her dog bed in the corner. Stiles likes dogs a lot, but he's learned that it's really inconvenient to have them in the room when you're having sex.

Derek's bedroom is like the rest of his apartment - neat, clean and nicely decorated. It's the house of a grown-up. Stiles tries not to compare it to his own house, and just appreciates the large bed, the soft lighting and what are bound to be nice, clean sheets.

Stiles reaches for the buttons of Derek's shirt and discovers that he's wearing a white undershirt beneath his button-down. When he pulls the shirt off entirely, Stiles takes a moment to memorize the sight of Derek's body, which is - let's be frank - insane. He doesn't have too long, though, since Derek is trying to lift his layers of shirts over his head. Smart, Stiles thinks, most people try to do it layer by layer, but this is much faster. So they're both bare-chested when they kiss again, and they're becoming impatient enough that they just each deal with their own pants.

Finally, Derek pulls back the covers and he and Stiles get into bed naked. Stiles thinks he's been waiting for this all night, even though he knows it can't be more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he got here. They're both already hard and Stiles wonders if Derek would mind if they skip most of the foreplay.

"I've been distracted all day, thinking about you fucking me," he says, and he thinks this is a good way to find out. Derek groans, presses him into the bed, breathes into his neck. 

"I've been thinking about it too. God, I want you."

For a second Stiles feels terribly indecisive, because the thought of sucking Derek's cock came into his mind and now he desperately wants to, but Derek is stroking the skin of his balls and the area behind them and he thinks he can wait after all. 

"You have something this time?" Stiles doesn't tell him, but he bought some condoms and lube on his way just in case. When Derek turns to reach for his bedside table, Stiles sees his tattoo for the first time. It looks like it grew on his back, like it was always there, meant to be there. He strokes his fingers along the lines as Derek rummages in the drawer, clumsy in his haste, and presses his lips to the centre.

When Derek turns back and leans over him, his fingers are already slick and he places (throws?) a condom and the lube container next to the pillow, with less care than he usually takes with his movements. But he's careful when his fingers find Stiles' entrance, gentle as he spreads the lube inwards, exploring more than pressing. 

Feeling Derek's fingers move in the same rhythm as Derek's mouth on his neck makes Stiles gasp out his name, try to find friction against his cock, reach for Derek's hair. Derek moves with more intention, and when Stiles opens his eyes to look at him, Derek's eyes are wide and dark as he looks back. The eye contact is somehow unbearably intimate, with everything else happening, and Stiles closes his eyes again, focusing on the pleasure coursing through his body, pressing down onto Derek's hand. 

It's not long before he grows impatient, needy, ready. 

"Please," he moans. "Please fuck me." A rumbling, growling sound emerges from Derek's chest as he grabs the condom, rips the package and puts it on. Derek seems to be losing patience too, and Stiles is glad - glad that Derek is (maybe?) as desperate for him as Stiles is. He's not so gentle as he plants his knees between Stiles' legs, pushing them outwards, opening him up. 

Most guys Stiles has slept with have gone slow at this point in the proceedings, at least the first time, and while he's always appreciated the sentiment, it's not what he needs. It's never hurt him much, not when there's lube involved, and he loves the feeling of sudden fullness. When it seems like Derek is second-guessing himself, and a look of determined patience crosses his face, Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's hips and urges him forward with his ankles. When Derek pushes in, not slowly, but obviously the way he wants to put himself into Stiles, with enthusiasm, it's perfect - perfect that Derek wants him like this, perfect that Derek trusts him to know what he wants. For just a moment it crosses his mind how ironic it is that, his first time sleeping with a man more than five years his senior, he has never felt more like someone's equal. But the thought passes as quickly as it comes, since Derek is moving in him and he's trying his best to get closer, to feel more, more of Derek.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long. Derek is going hard and fast and he's punching moans out of Stiles on every stroke. When Stiles tells him he's close and Derek says that he is too, Derek moves harder, and Stiles feels like he can't even keep up, like he's getting lost in this. Then Derek stops kissing and licking at his neck to bite down. Hard. Hard enough to leave marks, and he's coming, and he knows Derek is too, and it feels like it lasts forever.

After Stiles comes back to himself and they catch their breaths, Derek pulls out of him, disposes of the condom and shifts to lie down beside him again. He pulls Stiles' leg over his own and his hand wanders, almost unconsciously, back down to Stiles' ass, between his cheeks, and rubs over and around and in him where he's still relaxed. Stiles hums contentedly into Derek's shoulder and they stay that way for a while. He thinks he might almost be ready to fall asleep when he realizes his dick is trying to get hard again. 

"Dude," he says, "it is not supposed to be that good until at least a couple of months in." 

Derek laughs, a free and happy sound, and presses a finger all the way back in him.

***

It's a few hours later when Stiles looks at the clock and sighs. It hadn't been all sex - they'd gotten off another time, slowly, just with their hands as they were both still pretty wiped out from that first time - they spent a lot of time dozing and touching, but they didn't say much.

When Stiles tells Derek that he'd better get home, Derek's arm tightens around his waist and then loosens again, before he says, ever so tentatively:

"You could stay, if you want."

"I do want to," Stiles smiles down at him, "but I have suspicious roommates who'll be looking for me in the morning."

Derek looks a little nervous again, at the reminder of Allison and Lydia waiting for him back home.

"What are you going to tell them?"

Stiles thinks of his friends, of Scott and his suspicious looks, of his own discomfort today at not being open with them. And he thinks of the sound of Derek's laugh, and the sound he makes when he comes. 

"I'm sure I'll think of something convincing," he says, and kisses Derek again.


End file.
